


Heads or Tails Pt. 2

by PrettyMessedUpSituation (MarcelinesNightosphere)



Series: Lazy Sunday [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Bedroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Super Bowl, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3275522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcelinesNightosphere/pseuds/PrettyMessedUpSituation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas and Dean watch the Super Bowl with company, waiting to see how their bet - and Cas's payback - is going to play out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heads or Tails Pt. 2

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, follow up to Heads or Tails - just forty minutes after the 11pm I projected.

 The game was close. Too close for Dean’s liking. He was eyeballing Cas every once in a while, and Cas would just bite off another piece of carrot or take a bite of guacamole off of a chip, licking his thumb while staring down Dean. The Seahawks were up and he wasn’t sure if he was nervous or if he was a little excited at the proposition that it suggested.

Heads or tails, Patriots or Seahawks, get his mouth fucked or his ass railed. He shouldn’t have pulled that move earlier, but he couldn’t have Cas sitting around in that Patriots jersey. Plus, it was kind of hilarious.

The five guys from the garage were crammed onto the couch and loveseat while Sam reclined in the floor. Cas sat in the recliner, kicked back with a knowing grin that was like torture. It was 14 to 14. The guys were all clad in Seahawks jerseys except for Sam and Cas. Sam was only kind of interested, and Cas only had one thing on his mind – making this the longest two quarters of football Dean had ever experienced. The clock ticked closer down, and the Seahawks kicked a field goal. The guys cheered and Dean shoved the last half of a cheeseburger slider into his mouth.

“Great game,” Cas said.

Dean looked at him, his cheeks full of food.

“It’s always better when they’re this close.”

Dean nodded and resumed chewing. When his mouth was clear he answered. “Yeah, the suspense is killing me.”

Cas smiled. “I bet.”

 

When the fight broke out the last eighteen seconds everybody was yelling.

Then it was over. Patriots won, 28-24.

 

The guys stuck around for a little after, bitching and moaning about Tom Brady and how that rookie kid should have at least gotten the MVP trophy. All the food was gone, and before everyone bailed they helped pick up all the bottles and food containers. Mike, a guy that usually worked the same days as Dean, walked around with a trash bag while the others spiked balled up napkins and dropped in beer bottles. Everyone was out the door by ten. Sam said goodnight and thanked Cas for the food, giving Dean a look that seemed to wish him luck. He ducked out and Dean closed the door behind him.

“So,” Dean said, clapping his hands in front of him as a leg swung out, noncommittal about where he was actually going to go. Standing at the front door to the apartment wasn’t really an option.

Cas stood in the kitchen drinking a water. “I think that went well,” he said after a long swig.

“Yup. All except the Pats winning, that is.” Dean moved toward the kitchen and sat himself into one of the bar chairs.

Cas got an all-shucks look about him. “I know. Terrible. But the good thing is, I have a winning Super Bowl team jersey – oh. Oh wait.”

“Listen, Cas, I’m really sorry,” Dean said, spinning himself around like a kid. “That was a dick move. I’ll get you a new jersey.”

Cas laughed. “I don’t care about the jersey.”

“You don’t?”

“No. Although that was a dick move.”

Dean kicked the leg of the chair. “Yeah. It was kind of funny though.” He looked to Cas. “A little bit?”

“Yeah, it was kind of funny,” Cas admitted.

“So. What about that bet?” Dean asked, looking up through his eyelashes.

Cas stepped in front of Dean and ran his hands up Dean’s thighs. “I know how badly you wanted the Seahawks to win.” Cas’s words were full of scandalous accusations.

Dean’s voice caught in his throat and he swallowed hard. “Uh, yeah.” Cas’s eyes were piercing, and wild. He knew he was in trouble.

“It’s a shame they didn’t win,” Cas breathed. His lips danced across Dean’s skin, teasing him.

Dean mumbled an affirmation, his stomach fluttering with excitement.

“But, they didn’t win, did they?” Cas asked, running his lips up Dean’s jaw, finishing at his ear.

“No,” Dean whispered.

“What are we going to do about that?” Cas’s mouth crossed down to Dean’s, hovering just above his lips. “Ready to settle?”

“Yeah,” Dean said in a quick exhale, kissing Cas hard.

They could barely catch their breath as their mouths moved together. Dean’s hands gripped Cas’s hips, pulling them toward him. Suddenly he desperately wished he was ponying up for a Seahawks win. He undid the button on Cas’s jeans and slowly unzipped, delving his tongue into Cas’s mouth for one more kiss. The very tops and bottoms of their lips were pink from the friction of their scruff rubbing against each other. Dean wrapped his hand around Cas, rolling his thumb over his head in a circle, picking up the pre-come beaded on top. He smoothed it over Cas’s tip, his mouth watering at the sight of Cas’s hard cock. Slow strokes grew more deliberate while Dean bit his lip, looking into Cas’s eyes as he moved. Dean ceremoniously slid off the chair and got down on his knees, licking Cas from base to tip before slipping his lips over Cas’s cock. Cas’s left hand ran through Dean’s hair and rested it on the back of his head, letting Dean move freely. Dean took Cas into his mouth deeper then shallow, alternating his focus until Cas couldn’t take much more. Cas held the sides of Dean’s face, pumping his hips, thrusting his cock into Dean’s mouth to the back of his throat. Dean’s hands grasped the back of Cas’s thighs, his eyes starting to water. Cas slowed down, letting Dean breathe and his mouth relax. Once Dean had a little more control, he rolled his tongue which made Cas pull out of his mouth with a _whoa_.

“You okay?” Dean asked with a smile. He flexed his jaw and puffed his cheeks.

“Bedroom?” Cas asked, looking distraught.

“Okay, bedroom,” Dean said with a laugh.

 

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean said in a long exhale as Cas pushed into him. His eyes fluttered and he was glad Cas couldn’t see him. He rocked back when Cas didn’t immediately start fucking him like he expected, greedy and wanting to be fucked. Cas’s hands smoothed under Dean’s jersey and over his sides, pulling him back toward him as he drove deep. “Just fuck me, Cas. _Please_.”

Cas didn’t even need to be asked twice. The desperation in Dean’s voice did him in. His thumbs dug into Dean’s skin as he rolled his hips forward, building to a steady fuck. Dean’s forehead pushed down into the bed, small gasps for air and whimpers rolling in and out of him in unrestrained waves. His fingers clutched the sheets, twisting them in his hands while Cas wailed away on him. Dean was struck with lightheadedness as he built to orgasm, feeling almost as if he was going to black out as he came, woozy and over-pleasured. He collapsed into the mattress as Cas backed out of him.

“ _Oh my god, oh my god, holy shit_ ,” Dean muttered into the pillow.

“Are you okay?” Cas asked, trying to catch his breath.

Dean mumbled something inaudible.

“I think…I think your jersey is soiled. A lot.”

“I don’t even care,” Dean said, his face turned slightly so he wasn’t speaking into the pillow. “Fuck the jersey. Fuck the Patriots.”

“And the Seahawks?” Cas asked, trying to pull Dean’s jersey off of him. “Help me out, you lug.”

“Fuck the Seahawks. I’m not moving.”

“You’re a mess. Come get in the shower with me,” Cas said, slapping Dean gently on the ass.

“I can’t move,” Dean whined.

“Yes you can.” Cas put his face down next to Dean’s on the bed. “I put aside one of the mini-pies for you.”

 Dean opened his eyes. “I still have pie?”

 “You still have pie. Come get clean with me and then I’ll warm it up for you.”

 “Do we have ice cream?”

 “No. Just be happy with your pie,” Cas scolded as he clicked on the bathroom light. He smiled and shook his head as he turned on the shower, muttering under his breath with a laugh, “You’re such a little shit.”

 

 


End file.
